


Let's Not Give The Game Away

by ErikaWilliams



Series: Mutually Pining Idiots [3]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Gladio gets injured, Gladio that's not how you hold a carrot while feeding a large animal, Innuendo, M/M, Noct's there but he doesn't do anything, Prompto's chocobo is the best, based off my gameplay experiences, mentions of various side quests, those soft looks Gladio gives to Prompto
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-20
Updated: 2017-12-20
Packaged: 2019-02-17 15:32:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13079922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ErikaWilliams/pseuds/ErikaWilliams
Summary: Previously titled "Dealing With Chocobos," now an official part of the mutually pining idiots collection.Gladio's been having a rough week.  Noct is stalling on going to Lestallum, they all smell like chocobo, and Ignis just called him out for staring.  Not that he would ever admit to staring, but his chocobo decides to painfully take advantage of his distraction.





	Let's Not Give The Game Away

**Author's Note:**

> New fandom, who's this?

Gladio thought he might finally be getting used to these giant birds being with them continuously even while they were camping. Sure, occasionally one of them would squawk from a nightmare in the middle of the night and he had, maybe once or twice, nearly taken the tent down on top of all of them thinking somehow the Haven had been compromised. But the last time that had happened had been like, three nights ago, and he wasn’t about to let it happen again. Even if he had to muzzle them, but he was sure Prompto would never let him get away with that. In which case, he could keep his complaints to himself the next time he woke up with a great sword two inches from his nose.

Not that Noct was giving them any other option but to get used to the chocobos. He kept extending their rental, citing that the Regalia was too far away for them to comfortably walk to, and they didn’t have the funds to spare to have Cindy tow the Regalia to them. There seemed to be no shortage of funds when it came to renting those chocobos though. Or buying chocobo food.

His chocobo squawked and headbutted him solidly in the back, nearly causing him to drop the pile of firewood he had just gathered.

“I said I’ll feed you when I get fed,” he said, turning around to give the bird a look that would have made most men cower, but just made the chocobo tilt its head at him.

“Hey, Gladio, want some help with your chocobo?” Prompto asked from the other side of the Haven, where he was grooming his own chocobo. Prompto had all the luck in the chocobo department. Wiz must have loaned him the most docile, sweetest bird on the ranch. He could practically hear it cooing as it leaned its head down to nuzzle against Prompto’s hair. Prompto’s bird was as loving as Gladio’s was temperamental.

As if on cue, the damn bird headbutted him again, causing him to stagger forward and tighten his grip on the firewood.

“In a minute,” he growled, putting the firewood down. Not that the bird understood what he was saying anyway. He moved over to Ignis to see what they were having dinner. Naturally, it was the fish that Noct had spent all day catching instead of taking them closer to their destination. “Any idea when we can get back to the Regalia?” he asked, figuring if anyone knew what the Prince’s plan was, it would be Ignis.

“I suppose whenever Noct decides to take us there.” But they had business to attend to in Lestallum, business that Noct seemed to be purposefully avoiding.

“He spent all day today fishing for three lousy trout. Yesterday, we spent all day hunting. The day before that, it was chocobo racing. The day before that, he spent the entire day catching frogs.”

“I believe the frog catching was at your insistence,” Ignis reminded him as he portioned out the day’s catch along with the chocobo food.

“Yeah, but I didn’t know it was going to take him an entire day to find five frogs.”

“Perhaps you should have helped him,” Ignis rebuked him with a raised eyebrow, “instead of just standing there staring.”

It had been a rough couple of weeks, he smelled like chocobo, Noct was stalling on checking on Iris, and he didn’t need Ignis calling him out like this when there were two other people he could just as easily be chastising for far worse things.

“I was making sure that herd of Garula wasn’t going to charge us,” he protested.

“And Prompto couldn’t warn us of any danger?”

“He was taking pictures of the Garula. For all we know, the flash might have agitated them.”

“If you insist. Take Prompto’s dinner to him since he stopped you’re chocobo from destroying the entire camp.” He turned around to see three of the four chairs knocked to the ground, the only one that had been spared being the one Noct was sitting in.

“Sorry,” he said as he took the plates and the chocobo food off of Ignis. He didn’t know why he was apologizing for the bird when Noct was the one who insisted they rent them, and Prompto was the one who had insisted they go to the chocobo ranch in the first place. Prompto had both their birds on the other side of the haven and was giving both chocobos pats on the side of their necks. “That bird is a menace.”

“It seems to like Prompto just fine.” So he had noticed. Maybe he could convince Prompto to switch birds with him, and then it would no longer be his problem. Besides, he couldn’t admit to Ignis that maybe Prompto was just a better hand with the chocobos than him.

“It’s the hair. They think he’s one of them,” he said before picking his way through the remains of their campsite. He was going to have to clean that up later. Besides, he couldn’t keep his chocobo waiting for its dinner any longer.

“Here you go,” he said, handing Prompto his dinner before making himself comfortable on the ground with his back to the chocobos. He wasn’t about to let those birds get the better of him. Not again.

Prompto put the chocobo feed in front of his bird before sitting down next to Gladio with his back to the fire. Gladio had given his chocobo the greens but kept the carrot. Maybe he would keep it for himself. Maybe he would give it to the chocobo if it decided to behave at least long for him to eat dinner in peace.

“So, what did you name your chocobo?” Prompto asked in light conversation while he was waiting for his fish to cool down enough for him to eat it.

“It’s a rental. Why would I name it?” In retrospect, Nuisance would be a good name. Or the Golden Menace.

“You have to have something to call it,” Prompto insisted so seriously that he was momentarily taken aback. He doubted that Noct or Ignis had taken the time to name theirs either. “And I feel weird calling it Gladio’s chocobo.”

“You could try talking to us instead of the chocobos,” he suggested, because he didn’t like to think that Prompto had been bonding with his chocobo like he was incapable of taking care of it on his own.

Prompto turned his attention back to the chocobo and took a tentative bite out of his fish skewer. It shouldn’t always be like this, but it seemed like every time he talked to Prompto he always ended up saying the wrong thing. Maybe next time he should just try not saying anything at all.

“Look, next time we see Wiz,” which could be thirty years from now at the rate Noct was going, “I’ll ask him if this chocobo has a name.” He wasn’t going to give another name to something that might already have one and confuse the stupid thing more than it was. That answer seemed to placate Prompto because at least he smiled. That was much better than a Prompto who was displeased with him. “Are you going to tell me what you named your chocobo?”

Prompto not only told him what he named the chocobo, he gave him the entire history behind the name and the particular attributes that made his chocobo the best out of the four. Gladio heard every word, he swore he did, but he found himself focusing less on the words and more the music behind them. Prompto was really passionate about chocobos, and here in the privacy of the camp with his back towards the other two, he was unashamed of his excitement now that he had a captive audience to listen to him.

Prompto was nothing like the heroes in those romance novels Gladio read. He wasn’t the alpha male type that littered those pages. Far from it. He was short and wiry, and he cared too much for his own damn good. His skin was so pale that even the faint excitement of discussing one of his favorite subjects with his friend cause a faint flush across his cheeks. Not to mention the scattering of freckles that made him look younger and far more innocent than he actually was.

Those romance authors had no idea what they were missing out on. Prompto was the type of guy who would be the heroine’s best friend who was madly in love with her but she couldn’t be bothered to give him the time of day. Those girls were hard to root for when they were so willfully ignorant of what was right in front of them. Not that he was much better, content to sit there and stare and let the rest of the world just pass them by.

A sharp, searing pain at the base of his right thumb brought him back to reality with a low hiss. He forgot about the carrot. The damn chocobo had gone after the carrot he had been holding in his right hand and had nearly taken his thumb off in the process. He quickly brought his hand closer to him so he could cover the injury before Prompto saw it and asked questions. Like why he hadn’t been paying attention to the large bird with the sharp beak while he was trying to feed it.

Prompto must have heard him though, cause he looked towards him suddenly, blue eyes wide with concern. “You okay there, big guy?”

“I’m fine,” he lied through gritted teeth. It was anything but fine, but Prompto didn’t need to know that. He would never hear the end of it. But he also needed prompt medical attention. “Excuse me. I have to – uh – compliment the chef,” he said as he pushed himself to his feet. He was fairly certain that his other hand was the only thing keeping his thumb attached.

He tried to make his way nonchalantly across the camp site. Neither Noct nor Ignis seemed to have noticed that anything was amiss. Good, the less people that knew about this, the better. He would never live this down otherwise.

“Ignis, can I see you privately for a minute,” he said, being careful to keep the injury covered. He wasn’t sure what hurt the most at the moment, his pride or his thumb.

“If this is about a second helping, it’s going to have to wait until I’ve finished with my dinner.”

“No, it’s nothing like that,” he said and something in his voice must have tipped him off to the severity of the situation. He put his food down with a sigh and followed him to the edge of the Haven.

“What’s the emergency?” Ignis asked him, and after a moment’s deliberation, lowered the hand that was covering his injured thumb. Or rather what used to be a thumb. “Do I want to know how you managed to nearly sever your thumb while we’re at camp?”

“No,” he said because he really didn’t feel like explaining the situation to Ignis when he had already accused him of staring when he should have been helping with the frog search. “Can you fix it?” He needed his thumb. It would be one thing if he would have lost it in battle, but to lose it to a chocobo because he had been too busy day dreaming would be humiliating.

“I’ll see what I can do,” Ignis said as he pulled out a potion and the first aid kit. He stayed perfectly still while Ignis worked even though the potion burned and he wasn’t sure what it was supposed to do to help. Should have paid more attention during potion instructions. Luckily, Prompto was still preoccupied with the chocobos to have started looking for him yet. Not that he wouldn’t notice the bandage, so he was going to have to come up with some sort of explanation for it. “Try not to move it around too much,” Ignis instructed as he finished wrapping the bandage. “The potion needs time to set.”

“Yeah, thanks,” he said as he started to walk away. Maybe he could tell Prompto that he had cut himself on a fish bone.

“Oh, and Gladio,” Ignis called after him, “if you insist on polishing your sword tonight, do the rest of us the favor and ask Prompto to do it for you.”

**Author's Note:**

> This came together from a series of incidents that actually happened to me while playing. Namely at camp one evening, my level up screen included Gladio and Prompto feeding their chocobos. And Gladio, God bless him, had his back to the chocobo with a carrot in his hand and his thumb extended along the carrot while he was talking to Prompto. Which is not really the best idea when feeding a large animal. 
> 
> Hence this plot bunny was formed and supplemented by other gameplay experiences I had, like Gladio yelling at me multiple times for not going to Lestallum and taking an entire day to find those stupid red frogs. And I do frequently spend all day fishing, because why not?


End file.
